


切字

by kirakirababy



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drama, Eventual Romance, Gay, Gay Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 21:25:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4452941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirakirababy/pseuds/kirakirababy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>切字 are a cutting or DIVISION between two contrasting parts of a haiku.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 耐えれない

_耐えれない_  
  
I wince when your rough fingertips trace my jawline in a  
possessive gesture.  
Smoldering cigarette dropped and forgotten in a dingy puddle.  
The panting of your noxious breath, heavy against my face.  
Bright puffs of ghost-white air that push your honey blond hair from where it sticks to the remnants of shimmering lip-gloss.  
My eyes fly open when I feel your fingers slip into my pocket to extract my cell phone, and with some some indifference  
I watch you slam it methodically into the wall by my head.  
I hear the screen crack and the glass crushing dully against the smoke-stained brick.  
“Kou...what the fuck do you think--” I'm surprised at the tone of my own voice  
not upset.  
Just tired.  
“That bitch called you again, right?”  
“Fucking--Are you still drunk?”  
A glimmer of a smile breathes across your face and you drop the shards of plastic and metal to the street beneath our feet.  
We both know the answer to that non-question; you always have to be fucked up to play.  
  
To you, extremes are simply a reality of passion.  
Cigarettes, aspirin  
and a shot of whiskey for an eye opener.  
The sunlight makes you soft  
and your fingers thread through my hair idly as you pour yourself another.  
I've learned to stay quiet.  
To find safety in your inner thighs  
and peace with the knowledge that another morning in my bed  
means one less worrying about you  
face down in a hotel bathroom.  
Studying linoleum art  
and sleeping against porcelain pillows.  
When you brush your lips against mine  
and I close my eyes and try to forget the stale taste of your breath,  
I find myself once again desperately asking  
with my shaking hands on your hips  
and trembling lips trailing from your mouth to your chin,  
why you still try and drown your sorrows  
when you discovered long ago  
that sorrows can swim  
and the poison you use to kill the pain  
is killing you instead.  
  
 _どうせダメだや_  
  
“First commandment of a guitarist...” Your lips are slightly compressed, your chin raised at an angle, and I imagine that if I close my eyes I can't smell the liquor on your breath. “Never write anything you can't play drunk.”  
You laugh. A lavish, delighted laugh, and kiss me harder.  
Press your body against mine  
beg me  
with heated eyes  
and skin  
to just fucking give in  
and do what I want.  
The eager shifting of your hips and breathy moans let me know  
you're with me physically.  
But mentally... who knows where you are.  
You bite my lip teasingly and tell me to,  
“Touch yourself.”  
With a raspy voice sounding almost detached.  
You make no effort to find me with your eyes, no effort to focus  
on anything other than your tongue on my pulse, teeth on my chest, and fingers on my fly.  
  
Lucid lovers  
You arch you body over mine, and let your golden hair tickle my chin and chest  
A pretty, secret smile graces your blushing features and you  
lick your plush lips before guiding me gently inside.  
You gasp in pain when my fingers tighten on your abused hips  
and we groan together.  
I like to believe that you look more alive in the light of day  
but I'm starting to think that your eyes,  
glassy  
glittering  
gold  
seem eerily and dangerously empty.  
I close my eyes against the haunting image  
of a downward spiral.  
  
 _止めれない_  
  
You groan deeply against my collar bone  
and even though I know it must be uncomfortable  
for your bare thighs to be pressed against the roughness of the brick  
behind your back,  
You urge me deeper and grit your teeth,  
“Holy fuck, Yuu.” You whine, tangling your fingers in my hair and pulling my mouth against the pale column of your neck.  
You lips fall open in a needy gasp  
and you wrap your legs tightly around mine as I find a better angle.  
I feel used and dirty  
like all the times before.  
But your pleading murmurs of, “harder,” “more,” and “don't fucking stop”  
would test the patience of a saint.  
And I'm no saint.  
  
You silently shudder your release between us  
and I watch you slip back into blissful unconsciousness.  
This is the part that hurts the most.  
When you wake up to find yourself in my bed  
and burrow your face against the sensitive skin of my marred neck  
seeking comfort and forgiveness.  
I hate the regret in your eyes  
as you whisper your apologies for things you  
might have done or said.  
I hate myself for letting it happen again.  
And for knowing it won't be the last time.  
  
I hate being the nights you don't remember.


	2. 身にしみる

_身にしみる_  
  
“This is the scene where everybody dies.”  
Your breath is warm and sticky sweet against my neck.  
I take a deep breath and cringe, grumbling, “this is bullshit...”  
Your lips curve into a quiet smile, and you whisper, “don't be a baby, you  _wanted_  to spend Halloween with me.”  
“Not—fuck!” I jump when the propane tank explodes in a fiery blast, taking out a hoard of zombies. Words left unsaid.  
“Come on, lighten up Yuu.” You mutter teasingly brushing your lips against my cheek as you chuckle under your breath and reach for the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the coffee table.  
I easily recognize the beginnings of another toxically lonely night.  
And you toss a pillow at me in feigned agitation as you tell me to, “Shut up, you prick,” when I find myself laughing at the end-credit slaughter of survivors.  
Because I know  
 _There are real monsters in this world.  
Ones that will eat the people you love from the inside out._  
  
A mountain of ominous clouds and the remnants of midnight.  
The only light in the room is the fading cherry of your cigarette.  
Four in the morning and you're already killing yourself with coolness.  
Your chest rises and falls in harmony with the autumn rain, rapping its knuckles on the windows, as you take a deep drag, pushing the pillar of milky smoke from between your lips.  
Your bracelet jingles dryly against aluminum when you drop the spent cigarette into the empty beer can to your left.  
Leaning over, you press your plush lips to mine, hard enough that I can feel the sharpness of teeth.  
And you taste like you've swallowed an ashtray  
to forget the flavor of whiskey and cum.  
  
 _見限られない_  
  
“I'm so fucking wasted...” You murmur against my lips, and smile widely as you palm my dick clumsily through the heavy fabric jeans.  
You slip sensually between my legs and run your tongue along my fly, catching the zipper between your teeth and demanding with a muffled groan for me to fuck you.  
Laughing drunkenly, you allow yourself to be undressed  
and pushed roughly onto your back  
head hanging off the foot of the bed  
you clutch frantically at the bed frame and complain weakly, a pained whimper and the tightening of your fingers on wood  
as I press inside your willing body.  
  
I run my fingers lazily through tangled strands of blond hair,  
and trace soft patterns of complicated kanji on the satin skin of your back with my fingertips  
until I can count your alcohol heavy breaths to the ticking of the clock.  
And I feel foolish for being  
somehow convinced that  
maybe I could be the one to save you.  
  
 _折れるかな_  
  
The cold, hard facts laid bare  
and spreadeagled on the bed beneath you, you bare your teeth in something that might pass as a smile  
as I hide my fear deep inside your perfect body.  
Every weakness disguised by pleasure as I melt into the glistening contours of your skin.  
You gasp against my open mouth  
and screw your eyes closed  
when I grab your knee and press it to your stomach.  
Pushing deeper, skin against skin  
you bite the back of your hand  
and cry out desperately  
“please...please...”  
and I don't know if it's in pleasure or pain  
because deep down  
I don't know if you  
really feel anything at all.  
  
Forehead pressed against cool wood,  
I can imagine your blond hair shifting violently forward when  
you slam the palms of your hands against the locked bathroom door repeatedly  
with bruising force.  
And call me all the curse words you can think of.  
As I empty bottle after bottle into the sink  
and smash the glass on the floor, now bloody, beneath my feet.  
You scream that you hate me.  
Bang.  
You don't need me.  
Bang.  
You never loved me.  
Bang.  
I watch the amber  
clear  
red poison twisting like a serpent down the drain  
listen to your voice slowly becoming liquid  
and smile humorlessless at that fact that  
We are both well aware--  
No one would ever willingly break your heart.  
And so, craving the connection of a severed artery,  
you take matters into your own hands  
and smash it yourself.


	3. 哀れなり

_哀れなり_  
  
Sunlight creeps tiredly through the small skylight.  
I watch it travel across the room  
woozily  
illuminating tile and reflecting off toothpaste-stained porcelain.  
Beginning as a murky red and then  
shifting slowly to a sickly pink.  
Finally deciding on a dull autumn gray.  
The smell of blood and booze hangs heavily in the air, and it takes me a moment to look down to the floor.  
Even before looking  
I know I must be standing in a disaster zone.  
Glass shards litter the floor at my feet, glittering in the dawn light  
diluted blood seeping into porous grout.  
“Fuck.” I gasp, bending over to pluck the larger pieces of glass from between frigid toes.  
It takes me a moment to realize that the apartment is still, and an uncomfortable feeling settles low in my stomach.  
I jump when my phone buzzes in my pocket, and I don't bother to even whisper a hello.  
“You could have told me. You should have told me, dammit.” A voice, a crackling growl that rolls through the line and continues down my spine.  
A breath before,  
“Kou...”  
“He's here. You didn't get my texts?”  
I pull the phone away from my face for just long enough to notice the flashing blue light indicating a missed message.  
“Is he...”  
“Sleeping.”  
I breathe a sigh of relief and wince when the minimal shifting of my weight causes the glass to dig into my still-bare feet.  
“Told you--” I begin, not wanting to admit more than I have to.  
“That it was this bad.”  
“He's not a child.”  
“He needs help.”  
“He won't take it.”  
“From anyone? Or from you?”  
“Fuck you.”  
“He'd be jealous.”  
Fuck.  
“Akira...”  
“Don't. Just...” A heavy sigh. “I don't know what you want me to do here.”  
  
“Don't act so god damned superior.” Your voice bites through the quiet of Akira's apartment.  
It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light, and I follow the smooth curves beneath the comforter, eyes lingering momentarily on a pale foot hanging haphazardly off the side of the bed and mussed golden hair peaking out from beneath the blankets.  
Curled in the bed, shivering violently.  
Milk and honey.  
Tentatively, I brush the golden strands from where they stick to your temple, and you glare up at me.  
I kneel on the floor at the head of the bed, and meet your eyes; hold them long enough so that the cracks in your face become apparent  
along with the yawning chasm of anger.  
And beneath that...fear.  
“You're afraid.” I murmur.  
It isn't a question.  
You laugh and bite your lip, shaking your head slowly.  
“There's nothing left to lose, what would I be afraid of?”  
“You're afraid.” I repeat and take your clammy hand in mine, rubbing a slow circle on the thin skin with my thumb, expecting you to yank it away.  
Surprised, I smile softly when you lace your fingers between mine.  
“No.” You say, as if uttering the word makes it fact.  
I flip on the light and you curse, snapping the comforter over your head and burrowing further into the mountain of pillows. “You always have been such a beautiful fucking liar.”  
Every kiss was a lie.  
And now we're walking this invisible line  
between somewhere and nowhere  
and all I can do is  
release your hand,  
drop to the floor,  
so that my back sits against the sideboard and my head just rests on the edge of the mattress.  
Your voice is muffled by fabric and feathers,  
“Don't be an idiot. Love is too plebian, we're not like everyone else.”  
I roll my eyes and stare at the ceiling, attempting not to honor the statement with a response,  
but can't help it when run my hands up my face and through my hair, and mutter  
“Just shut the fuck up.”  
I can feel you shifting restlessly behind me and I imagine you're smiling, still biting your lip.  
And I wonder when it was that  
I resigned myself  
to sitting in your shadow.  
  
 _頻りに恋し_  
  
The third downpour of the day.  
Rain running down walls and spitting against windows.  
Wayward wisps of hair are plastered to your neck,  
shirt stained a shade deeper with sweat.  
“Kou...What are you doing? It's almost past midnight.”  
Your lips quirk,  
mouth twitching in a half-embarrassed grin,  
“I'm running away. Aren't you?”  
“Do you think I can smoke in here?”  
You laugh sharply before shrugging and tucking your ear-buds back into place dismissively  
as I admire the way your skin is pulled tight against your abdomen.  
“It could have been worse.”  
You take a deep breath and expel it heavily from your nose,  
Re-ionization.  
Pausing the treadmill, you lean casually against the handrail, chest heaving,  
brush your hair irritably out of your face  
and meet my eyes, “But then, it could have been a hell of a lot better, right?”  
  
You allow my hand to slide up the side of your ribs smoothly, an innocent brush of fingers beneath the thin fabric of your shirt.  
You keep your eyes on the game in your hands but I feel  
a shiver of trepidation run through your body  
mingling elegantly with a release of pent-up tension.  
A shaking breath drawn from between your trembling lips and a soft, “ah”  
as an ode to the  
intimate brush of skin  
without alcohol burning in our veins.  
Leaning forward I pry the game from your hands, with only a half-hearted complaint, you comply when I press my lips gently to yours.  
I stop suddenly  
a deer in the headlights  
surprised by the amount of blood pounding in my cheeks.  
  
 _行く秋や_  
  
Our sheets are dampened with sweat  
soft curves and shifting bodies.  
My name on your breath  
echoes in my mind.  
A gentle and familiar pleading  
in time with the backward press of your hips  
“please...”  
this time I know what you're asking for.  
Please  
I'm on my knees for you.  
Please  
teach me how to need.  
Please  
show me this is real.  
I follow the map of your spine with my lips  
and taste abandon on your neck with my tongue.  
  
Rising up from where our limbs intertwined,  
your fingers wrap slowly around my wrist  
as I lean over the side of the bed, rummaging around in the pile of clothes until I find  
an illusive pack of cigarettes.  
“You're always up first.” You tease.  
“sorry,” I murmur, slipping a cigarette loosely between my lips, “this...”  
This.  
Your self-defibrillation.  
“takes some getting used to.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at:  
> http://sciencesaves.livejournal.com/27820.html


End file.
